Fire & Metal
by TheSilverHunt3r
Summary: Dazai's coat had been abandoned on the desk. He wouldn't have left that behind willing. . . and it didn't look like he did. Dad!Mori, one shot.


Summary: Dazai's coat had been abandoned on the desk. He wouldn't have left that behind willing. . . and it didn't look like he did. Dad!Mori, one shot.

"Leave me, Doctor."

"Of course." Mori bowed slightly to the bedridden Boss of the Port Mafia before leaving. He entered the hallways of Headquarters. His smile did not falter, but his eyes grew darker.

The Boss was getting worse.

Mori didn't like it.

Every visit presented him with a question: What will happen if the Boss truly succumbs to his delusions? What should Mori do?

Each time, Mori came to the same conclusion: whatever Mori felt he needed to.

The Boss had wiped out all of his enemies in the Port Mafia rather efficiently, leaving only staunch supporters. The only way to correct the path of the Port Mafia would be to gain the blessing of the Boss to take over. But if the Boss ever got to the point of being fully raving mad he would not listen to reason.

It was why Mori had a contingency plan to prepare for that.

XXX

Mori owned a building that acted as his infirmary. It was largely abandoned looking-a helpful appearance of you front want people poking around-and sturdy. He toed off his shoes at the front door. "Dazai-kun?"

Although only fourteen, Dazai could be trusted alone for an hour or two if properly bribed with food or something interesting.

Mori entered his office. The place was a mess, pill bottles, jars, and books scattered around.

Dazai's coat had been abandoned on the desk. He wouldn't have left that behind willing. . . and it didn't look like he did.

Mori brushed the papers off of his chair and collapsed into it. He sighed, massaging the bridge of his nose.

XXX

Dazai wasn't part of the Port Mafia. Mori was barely considered part of the Port Mafia. He couldn't use their resources for any of this.

Mori held up a scapel, somehow making it look nonchalant. "The faster you tell me, the faster I'll be gone."

The man kept his poker face on-he wasn't one of Yokohama's top information brokers for nothing. His Adam's Apple bobbed up and done nervously. His fingers trembled. "I can't-"

Mori smiled at the man reassuring, as if he wasn't mad at the refusal. He stabbed the scapel into the table, between the man's fingers. "This blade is rather sharp. It'd be a shame if you lost a finger. . . or five."

XXX

Four days later

Elise took out most of the men. Mori helped some, usually slicing a throat or two before the enemy got a chance to scream.

The two entered the holding cell.

"Ah, Aizawa-san, would you-" The boss said, looking up, only to receive a bullet to the forehead. His cronies were also shortly gifted with bullets to the head.

Mori put his gun away, strolling over to his apprentice. He had Dazai's coat draped over his arm, and his doctor bag. If not for the dismal room and cadavers, one could believe he was a normal doctor.

Dazai was on the floor, head bowed in defeat towards the ground.

"Dazai-kun?" Mori asked.

Dazai was handcuffed. There was a thick circle of red around his wrists where the metal had rubbed against him.

Mori pressed his lips together in something. . . concern? He didn't know why he was feeling that. Dazai was just a pawn, a useful pawn, but just a pawn. The only reason Mori was saving Dazai was because the boy was a perfect accomplice. With Dazai's suicidal tendencies, no one would find the boy dying soon after Mori took power suspicious.

"Dazai-kun," Mori repeated. He crouched down beside the boy.

No response.

Mori combed through his doctor bag. There was a secret compartment in the bottom right corner. Out of the things there, he chose the best suited for the task-a universal handcuff key.

Mori gently gripped one of Dazai's hands to keep them still. He slotted the key in the handcuff and turned. He repeated the process with the other handcuff.

Dazai had pulled against the handcuffs, creating a darker ring underneath his wrists. But for that to have happened there, he would have had to pull away while someone was holding onto the abnormally, long chain connecting the handcuffs.

Mori's eyes darkened as he pulled up Dazai's right sleeve. The bandages were missing.

Knife wounds decorated the boy's arm. All of the cuts were still bright red and barely scabbed over, pinkish skin around the wound.

Dazai moved backwards. His back slammed into the wall. His head jerked up, exposing his eyes-they were dead as usual, but unusually glossy and unfocused.

"Dazai-kun," said Mori-the words were infused with a command, 'Look at me'.

Dazai complied, acting on instinct because of the trusted familiarity of Mori's voice. His voice shook slightly. "Mori-san?"

"Yes, Dazai-kun," Mori patiently reassured. "I am going to wrap your arm up to prevent the wounds from being infected. Is your other arm the same?"

Dazai's eyes dropped to his left arm. He nodded. "Yes."

The room's strong artifical light did not help Dazai look healthy-it only highlighted how pale he was.

The tunnels they took were dark and damp.

They exited out onto the street.

Dazai stood close to Mori, hiding his injuries under his coat.

Mori's lips thinned as he joined the throng of people. He carefully put an arm on Dazai's shoulder to make sure he wouldn't lose the boy.

It was odd to be among a crowd of citizens after being kidnapped or killing thugs. It heightened just how different their lives were from those around them.

XXX

"This is a shim," Mori held up a small piece metal with sharp teeth all along one side.

"And?" Dazai asked. He sat cross-legged on the bed.

"I am going to teach you how to use this to break out of handcuffs," Mori replied.

Dazai straightened up, eyes full of wary interest.

Mori smiled at the response. He gave the crash course on how to open handcuffs: Use the shim to separate the ratcheting mechanism from the lock body, then pull on the swing arm until the handcuff is completely open again. Dazai was smart, he didn't more than that to understand everything.

Dazai fiddled around with the shim in his hands. He decided to give voice to a thought that had been in his head for the past few days. "Why'd you rescue me?"

"Because you are useful," Mori bluntly replied.

"There's nothing particularly special about me. You could use anyone else. Why go through the trouble of getting me back?" Dazai countered.

"Because word would get out about 'Doctor Mori not being able to get back his apprentice'." Mori callously shrugged. "It was less about you, and more about me. He focused his heavy, piercing gaze on his apprentice. "What answer are you looking for?"

"A true one," Dazai simply stated. "But I don't think you like to admit to the reasons you do anything."

Mori laughed, but made no comment.

Dazai wasn't sure-Mori being secretive as usual helped obscure his motives as usual-yet he had a inkling that it was because Mori had, inadvertently, started to care.

XXX

Mori looked at the calender on his phone. He noted with some surprise, that it was close to the four year anniversary of the old Boss's death. . . and Mori's promotion to Boss of the Port Mafia. Or to more accurately phrase the last part, Mori's successful coup.

Dazai was late for a meeting with him.

Mori waited. He started doing paperwork and mentally redid his schedule for the afternoon.

Dazai was often late, but he always arrived eventually.

Mori waited. He had already finished most of his paperwork for the day.

Dazai still hadn't come.

The sun started to hit the top of Yokohama's skyline as it came down for the day.

Mori: Eta?

He waited for five minutes.

No reply. He wasn't even left on read.

Mori went to his contacts list again. He speed dialed the fourth person. He kept his tone casual and unrushed. "Hello, Chuuya-kun. What was Dazai doing this morning?"

"He planned to be in negotiations with the Riotto family most of the morning, Boss. Has something happened?" Chuuya wasn't an idiot. The Boss wouldn't just call him up and ask where Dazai was for fun.

"He was absent for meeting with me at 2 o'clock," Mori informed. "Would you please check with Dazai-kun's men about his whereabouts?"

Chuuya didn't reply for several seconds. He knew the implications of Dazai not showing up for hours, knew all the problems it could be caused by: suicide, kidnapping, murder. . . . "S*it," Chuuya swore. "I'm on it, Boss."

XXX

Three days later

Dazai felt unbearably tired. He had been allowed to lean against the wall. It was rather hard to sleep when one had a gun was pointed at one's torso. A bullet to the stomach had a good chance of being extremely painful, messy, and agonizingly long. The type of death he wanted was very much the opposite. Dazai wanted painless and quick. If his guard wasn't so jumpy he would have requested to gunman to aim for his head, instead.

Gunfire and screams echoed through the abandoned school.

Dazai tilted his head slightly at the unmistakable sound of concrete cracking. It was not accompanied by the sound of an explosion, so it was either caused by an ability or pure physical strength-he was well aware of the large craters left by both of those. His partner was likely here.

The sounds grew louder.

He kept his eyes closed. The shim was already in his hands. He quickly inserted it, loosening the handcuff arms.

The double doors of the auditorium slammed open.

The six men guarding Dazai turned their sights to their attacker, Chuuya Nakahara.

"Found him Boss," Chuuya said into his phone. He snapped it shut, slipped his phone in his pocket, and draped his trench coat over one of the auditorium seats. He bounded down the stairs, a red blur that bullets could not touch.

Dazai snapped his fingers and the handcuffs fell off.

Chuuya landed on the stage, cracking the wooden boards. Not to be out done, his attackers started up another round of attempting to shoot him.  
Bullets were suspended in the crimson hue around him. He flicked his wrist and returned them to the thugs-the bullets pelted the stage, barely avoiding Dazai.

The collar of Dazai's coat was popped, buttoned up all of the way, hiding all of the skin underneath his chin. He stretched himself to his full height, felt his stuff back crack from disuse.

Chuuya lunged at one of the thugs, exposing his back.

Dazai saw a second thug in Chuuya's blindspot, bleeding out but still alive and shakily raising a gun. He dived onto his belly, disregarding the bloody corpse he landed next to, except to quickly pry the still warm fingers from the handle of a pistol. Dazai aimed the gun at the second thug and pulled the trigger-the bullet entered his target's shoulder. His accuracy was not helped by his odd position. Dazai clicked his tongue and shot to his feet, using both hands to support the pistol. He fired again; this time he was successful and watched the man topple-over dead.

He kept the gun in his hand as he fled through the pockets of his former captors-they were not there to miss their wallets and phone.

Chuuya finished off the last enemy in the auditorium. He turned his gaze to his partner. "Dazai, any injuries?"

"No," Dazai replied.

The tint of concern in Chuuya's eyes did not go away at his partner's response. He bit his lip and dropped it for now.

"Boss," Dazai greeted-his voice sounded strained, only noticeable to those who knew him best. Unfortunately for him, two of the three people who would notice were in the same room as him.

Mori was making his way down the steps of the auditorium. "Dazai-kun." He climbed onto the stage, a gas canister in hand. "Chuuya-kun, if you would." He gestured for Chuuya to throw the body among the others on the stage.

Chuuya complied.

Dazai jumped off the stage, less because it was such a tall height and more for fun. He landed with grace that his gangly form rarely possessed.

Mori unscrewed the gasoline cannister and drizzled the gas around the bodies of Dazai's captors.

Chuuya had already started walking out. He opened up his cellphone and took out the keys for his car.

Dazai went up the steps after his partner. He yawned, the action followed by a wince of pain. He glanced back once.

Mori pulled out a lighter and flicked it on. He threw it onto one of the corpses doused with gasoline.

The room was soon engulfed in fire, burning all traces of the events that took place

XXX

Mori closed the door of the house. It was the place he had made into his clinic, in his underground doctor days, before he became the Port Mafia Boss. He summoned Elise and she went to his office to get medical supplies for him.

"You two went on a solo crusade to get me back. I'm touched," Dazai teased with a smirk. He was acting normal, as of he hadn't even been manhandled by his guards. He waltzed into the living room, hands in his pockets.

Mori looked at his apprentice. He ran over Dazai's recent body language and requested one thing, "Unbutton your collar."

Dazai had a perfectly crafted poker face. But as much as he tried to hide it, he had injuries. He was in pain. It showed in the stiffness of his shoulders and the refusal to turn or tilt his head. The unusual concealment of his neck was the most obvious clue; he never popped his coat collar like that.

Elise handed Mori his doctor's bag and disappeared. Mori pulled off his satin gloves, as there was no sense in keeping them on and bloodying them. "You tried to hide it from Chuuya-kun and me. We both knew something was off. That's why he didn't even question dropping you off with me. But of course, you knew all of that already."

Dazai's jaw tightened. His cheerful expression had been replaced by. . . nothing. His eyes were dead. His lips were a neutral line.

"Just show me," Mori requested.

Dazai slowly unbuttoned his collar, pulling it down so that Mori could see his throat. The bandages around Dazai's throat were gone. Instead there was the glint of metal wire.

Mori pursed his lips. "Take off your coat and shirt. Sit on the couch," he ordered.

Dazai complied.

Mori drew in a breath through clenched teeth. He indulged in a fantasy of vengeance for a brief moment, but the perpetrators were already gone. All that remained was for Mori to fix what those b*stards had broken as best as he could.

Mori grabbed metal cutters from his office and sanitized the tool and his hands before he entered the living room. His grip on the tool tightened. The full view was worse.

Around Dazai's throat was a circlet of barbed wire, made of four loops. It dug into skin already lined with silver scars.

Mori pulled a chair up to the coach. He pushed aside the cold rage in his heart to focus on what he needed to do, what Dazai needed him to do. "Do you want me to numb the area around it?"

Dazai clasped his hands together on top of his lap. His voice cracked slightly with his confession. "I just want it to be out."

For Dazai to not care about the anesthetic, meant it was hurting worse than Mori had thought. Mori nodded. He used the extra space couch to hold his tools on a piece of cloth. Next to the legs of his chair he placed his doctor's bag. Necessary items set up, he scooted his chair closer to Dazai for better reach. He could either go quickly or the less painful and slow route. Mori decided on the latter-Dazai hated pain after all.

Mori cut off small bits of the wire, disposing of the cut sections with tweezers. He patiently whittled his way down through the long coiled barbed wire. He knew whenever an action hurt Dazai from the teenager's occasional flinches.

Drops of blood started rolling down Dazai's neck-in some places, the barbed wire had pressed into his skin to the point of puncturing through. When the barbs were removed, the wounds were no longer plugged up.

Mori's hands did not tremble or falter once. He had been a surgeon once-he still retained the skilled hands required for the job. He finished slowly but surely, with minimal pain.

The barbed wire removed, Mori cleaned up the blood and administered antiseptic.

Even though he knew it was necessary, Dazai grumbled at the stinging antiseptic.

Mori gently wrapped up Dazai's neck in bandages. He started to pack up his tools, slipping them back in his doctor bag. He would dispose of the barbed wire tomorrow.

Dazai sighed and closed his bloodshot eyes. He rested his forehead on Mori's shoulder and inhaled the comforting and overpowering smell of his mentor's cologne, blackcurrant, vetiver, and honey dew. Mori used a pungent cologne to mask the smell of blood and gunpowder, but he was never fully successful.

Mori placed a hand on the top Dazai's head, careful to avoid the teenager's neck. He brushed his hand through Dazai's matted brown hairs. "Dazai-kun?"

There was no reply.

Mori sighed. His protege had fallen asleep on him.

XXX

Five years later

Dazai's shoes hit the ground with soft sounds-the tiles were covered in a thick layer of ash.

"So what's the story behind all of this?" Atsushi asked. "You two haven't explained what we're doing."

"According to our client, the school was abandoned two decades ago. A group of thugs were using it as a base about five years ago, but parts of it burnt down in what looked to be a deliberately caused fire," Kunikida explained.

Atsushi furrowed his eyebrows. "And we were hired to do what exactly?"

"We were hired by the government see if we could find anything," Dazai chirped. He briefly slung an arm around Atsushi's shoulders.

"Okay?" Atsushi skeptically surveyed the largely collapsed building. He sighed. There didn't look like there would be much. He mentally resigned himself to spending a few boring hours combing through charred things and finding nothing.

Kunikida marched off. He had a map, blueprints of the original building. He was talking quickly, laying out the plan for how they would divide up searching the place.

Atsushi blinked. He turned around, trying to find his mentor. He groaned. Dazai had already ditched them.

XXX

Dazai stood in a large room.

The supports of the place were barely holding the roof up-the only reason they had lasted this long was because they were high quality metal. The auditorium had been an addition on to the building and the school had splurged on it.

Dazai strolled down the stairs, approaching the charred remains of the stage. He couldn't hear the voice of Kunikida in the distance anymore.

Dazai wandered into the place the stage used to be. He used his shoe to scrape at the layer of ash over a small area. His toe hit something. A silver lighter, mangled almost beyond recognition.

He picked it up and looked at the bottom. Scratched into the metal-with some sort of sharp blade-were the initials M.R..

Dazai grinned slightly, success. He turned the lighter around in his fingers. He, Atsushi, and Kunikida were supposed to be looking for any previously missed evidence. This lighter would certainly count.

But. . .

If Dazai slipped the mangled remains of the lighter in his pocket, uncaring of the ash coating the metal, and said nothing about it? Well, none of his coworkers would have ever known.

A/N

M.R. stands for Rintarou Mori, the real name of Ougai Mori.

I've written Chuuya getting kidnapped and Dazai and Chuuya getting kidnapped. I felt it was only fair to write one where Dazai gets kidnapped. . . twice. Slightly lopsided, except I'm also going to be working on a multi-chap who's entire premise is Chuuya getting kidnapped. So (Chuuya) 3-3 (Dazai).

-Silver


End file.
